


If I Follow I Will Surely Find

by suchanadorer



Series: The John Watson Affair Universe [3]
Category: Two Two One Bravo Baker Series
Genre: John Watson Affair, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-26
Updated: 2012-10-26
Packaged: 2017-11-17 01:48:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/546302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchanadorer/pseuds/suchanadorer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I know they're "Henn" and "McMath" in the first fic in this series, but I can't keep calling them that. It doesn't make sense anymore. They're Tom and Billy.</p>
<p>Betas. I'm pretty sure just about everyone got to read the start of this at one point or another, but thanks to J for helping me with the ending! :)</p></blockquote>





	If I Follow I Will Surely Find

“It’s pissing down rain out there,” Tom says, turning away from the window. “No way am I going out in this.” He looks over towards Billy. “You staying in, too?”

Billy gives him a one-shouldered shrug and Tom grins. Billy’s mouth twitches up slightly in an expression that is harder to read, and for a moment Tom pauses to look at him. He heads into the kitchen and comes back with two bottles and a glass, handing one to Billy before settling in beside him on the couch.

“Just us again, then,” Tom says. His thigh is pressed up against Billy’s until Billy shifts, keeping their legs from touching but not moving further away.

“Yeah,” Billy replies, staring hard at the far wall and worrying a corner of the label on his beer bottle.

They sit in companionable silence, letting the rain drumming against the windows fill the quiet flat with white noise. Tom leans closer to Billy, bumping him with an elbow to get his attention. When Billy turns to look at him, there’s something soft and uncertain in his gaze.

“Hey, I been thinking about something,” Tom starts. He flicks his bottle cap into the ashtray and concentrates on pouring his beer, adjusting the angle of the glass and the bottle as if it was a science experiment. His gaze flicks from the glass to Billy and back.

“Me too,” Billy says as he turns to look at Tom. “Why the hell do you always use a glass, and then leave it for someone else to wash? Would your mother be proud of you?” 

Tom huffs out a laugh and leans back, letting one hand fall behind Billy’s shoulders along the back of the sofa.

“No, but really. Why the hell are you always around when I turn up? You’re a commando back from Afghanistan. You should be out getting laid.”

”I am getting laid.” Billy’s eyes narrow as he looks at Tom over the neck of his beer bottle.

“C’mon. This isn’t fucking Helmand or Camp Bastion. We’re home now. You could have anything you wanted; start a life with somebody, fall in love.” Tom gestures expansively with his beer glass, as if all of England were visible beyond the walls of the flat.

“Maybe I already have what I want. Maybe I already...” Billy’s tone is clipped but softens, and for a long moment the only sound in the apartment is the rain. Billy stares down at his hands, his jaw clenching and relaxing. Tom stares open-mouthed at Billy, watching him as he flexes his shoulders and draws a hand over his face, letting his head hang heavily.

“What the hell are you talking about, Billy?” Tom leans forward, setting his glass on the table and lowering his head to try to meet Billy’s gaze. He lifts his arm from the back of the sofa and places his hand on the back of Billy’s neck. Billy freezes, eyes closed, before pushing out a deep breath and turning his head to look at Tom.

“You honestly don’t know, do you? Fuck, look at you, you’ve got no idea.” Billy shakes his head, one corner of his mouth curling up. Tom pulls back, his brow furrowing, then smoothing.

“You don’t mean me, Mac.” Tom’s laugh falters, the grin sliding off his face as he watches Billy tense, biting at his upper lip, his hand curling into a fist on his knee. Billy’s eyes slide closed and he blows out a breath. “But, I mean. When?”

“I don’t know. Over there.” Billy motions to the room at large, his voice rising in pitch.

“Christ.” Tom’s eyes widen and his mouth hangs open, tongue pressing against his lower teeth. “You mean while – Fuck. You should’ve said something.” Tom sweeps his hand from the nape of Billy’s neck down along his shoulder but doesn’t take it away. Billy rolls his shoulders and shoots Tom a dark look, but the hand stays, thumb rubbing softly against the fabric of Billy’s t-shirt.

“We had more important things to worry about,” Billy says slowly, “and I figured, better the way we had it than nothing at all.” His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

Tom’s hand slides down Billy’s arm, stopping to grab his wrist. He gives it a little squeeze and Billy finally lifts his gaze, looking Tom directly in the eyes.

Tom smiles faintly at him. “You were wrong. We could’ve had it a lot better a long time ago.” Tom twists in the sofa, tucking one calf under his body to move closer to Billy, whose face is still lined with apprehension. Tom cups Billy’s jaw with his right hand, not letting him turn away. “I would gladly have been all yours. Still would.” He leans in, pulling Billy towards him. Their faces are only a couple of inches apart when Billy stiffens, his eyes flitting between Tom’s gaze and his lips.

“I fucking love you, baby boy.” Tom closes the distance between them, pressing his lips to Billy’s, both their eyes falling closed. They stay that way for a moment, Tom’s lips slightly parted around Billy’s lower lip. Tom smiles against Billy’s mouth and sucks at his lower lip, moving a hand up to cup the side of Billy’s face. Billy’s mouth drops open. He tightens his grip on Tom’s side and Tom swings his leg up onto the sofa between Billy’s thighs, settling so that he’s sitting on Billy’s right knee. Billy slides his left arm around Tom’s back, slipping it under the bulky layers of clothing. Tom leans away from him and rounds his spine, ducking between his elbows as he pulls off his jumper and the t-shirt underneath it. They land in a pile at the far end of the sofa.

Billy’s hands skim over the curves of Tom’s ribs, his eyes following his fingers as they trail over skin that remains stubbornly sun-bronzed. He curves his hands up along Tom’s shoulders to meet at the back of his neck to pull Tom down to him again, but Tom pauses, his eyes fixed on Billy’s hairline. Billy flushes and runs a hand through his hair, but Tom pushes it away. The scar is small and pink, already starting to blend into Billy’s hairline. The corners of Tom’s mouth pull down and his eyes darken as he considers the scar, then he bends forward, pressing Billy’s head down to place a kiss on the smooth pink skin. Billy is still for a moment, then twists his head to bring his face to Tom’s throat, first just pressing his nose to the skin there, then mouthing kisses. Tom’s head rolls back to expose his neck and he makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a groan as he runs his hand through Billy’s hair to the nape of his neck, cradling his skull. 

Tom’s hips begin to roll slowly in time with Billy’s movements on his neck and Billy’s right hand wanders down to land on Tom’s arse. Tom sinks down into the contact, curving his spine to come down and cover Billy’s lips with his own. Billy’s mouth falls open and he tilts his head slightly, tongue flicking out over Tom’s lower lip and teeth. Tom presses tight against Billy’s mouth, deepening the kiss as he leans against Billy, guiding him back into the sofa. Billy’s head falls back and this time it’s Tom who drags his mouth along the line of Billy’s jaw, teeth running through the copper stubble along his chin. Tom pauses, glancing up at Billy before continuing his exploration, breathing warm, wet kisses against Billy’s neck. 

Tom’s hands slide down Billy’s shoulders to push at his arms, running along the inside of his elbows and out to his fingers. They fumble for a moment before intertwining. Tom moves their arms, bringing their locked hands to rest on either side of Billy’s head. Billy squirms lightly under Tom, pressing his erection against Tom’s knee, but Tom only shakes his head lightly, moving up to whisper a “ssh” in Billy’s ear. He draws his lips across Billy’s cheek and Billy twists his head to meet him. 

“Take it easy,” Tom breathes. The kiss is rougher this time, Billy catching Tom’s lower lip in his teeth before their mouths meet properly. The muscles in Tom’s lower arms flex and stretch as he draws his thumbs over Billy’s in slow, solid strokes. He lets go of one of Billy’s hands and it flies to Tom’s hip, trying to pull him closer, but with Tom’s knee between his thighs there’s no extra room.

Tom leans back away from Billy, unfolding so that he’s standing in front of him. He tugs at the hand that’s still holding his, dragging Billy up out of the sofa. Billy slides his hands around Tom’s ribs and pulls him close, pressing them together from knees to chest. They stand that way for a moment before Tom takes one of Billy’s hands in his own and turns, leading him towards the bedroom.

Tom pushes the door open ahead of him, dropping Billy’s hand so that he can pull off his t-shirt, tossing it onto his sleeping bag by the wall. Billy moves to stand directly behind Tom, lowering his face to the back of Tom’s neck, his eyes fluttering closed as he dips his nose into Tom’s hair and breathes. 

“How can you still smell like the desert, baby boy?” Tom laughs and stretches an arm up behind his head, cupping the side of Billy’s face. He turns to face Billy, reaching up to kiss him while leading him backwards towards the mattress. 

“Borrowing Doc’s bed?” Billy murmurs against his lips.

Tom pulls back and gives him a wicked grin. Their feet meet the box spring and mattress on the floor. Tom slides his hands down Billy’s arms, and he makes short work of his belt and the fly of his jeans, sitting on the edge of the mattress to pull them down off Billy’s legs. 

Tom’s breath is warm where he mouths at the damp cotton of Billy’s pants, and Billy hisses in a breath, watching as Tom closes his eyes and he presses his nose, his cheek to Billy's erection, wanting as much contact as possible. Billy cradles the back of Tom's head and rocks his hips gently.

Tom drags his nails over the skin of Billy’s sides, then the tugs at the waistband of his briefs. Billy’s legs are splayed so wide that he can barely get them down his hips, but he manages, and Billy blows out a ragged breath when the cool air of the bedroom hits his hot, sensitive skin. Tom hums approvingly, his eyes moving over the length of Billy, taking in every inch of him like he's seeing him for the first time.

"Damn, Billy," Tom remarks before licking a long, wet stripe up the bottom of Billy's cock. Billy's hips jump and Tom puts a hand on the spur his left hip, holding him still. His thumb is working in small circles, just close enough brush up against the base of his cock, running over and through the hair there, looking up to meet Tom's eyes.

Tom’s mouth his warm and wet, and he's gentle, all lips and tongue wrapped around the flushed tip. Billy watches for as long as he can bear. Tom takes his time, pulling off before taking him in again, more and more each time. His cheeks hollow and his tongue glides, and Billy lets his head drop back. The cracked, water-stained ceiling is a less interesting sight, but he has to do something to make this last longer.

Tom's breath is warm against his skin, catching in small puffs in the hair at the base of Billy's cock. He strokes and fondles, using a spit-slicked hand to work in concert with his mouth, covering him completely. Billy starts to softly move in time with Tom's head, and Tom stills, letting Billy fuck into his mouth, making small encouraging noises when Billy's hand tightens in his hair, not hard enough to pull but enough for him to exert some control.

His breath is loud in the small room, punctuated by the squeak of the bedsprings as Tom sways gently on the bed. Tom wraps one strong hand around the back of Billy’s thigh and palms his ass with the other, fingers teasing into his crack. Billy bites as his lower lip and thrusts harder, squeezing his eyes shut.

His thighs start to shudder and he feels his body tighten. Tom drags skillful fingers along the crease of his thighs, against his perineum, and over his balls. The not so subtle scrape of teeth threatens to tip Billy over the edge and he stops them, taking a stumbling step back away from Tom, who looks up at him, all tousled hair and shining, swollen lips.

Billy shucks off his clothes and Tom follows his lead, lifting his hips to push off his jeans and pants. Billy drops to his knees and pushes Tom down with him onto the faded bedroll. He crawls on top of him, kissing his way up Tom’s body, even as he hooks a hand under the back of Tom’s knee and pulls it up.

There’s lube in Tom’s bag. Billy can just reach it from the bed, pulling it closer and fishing through it with one hand.

“Too much shit in here,” he mumbles. Tom tries to twist his head to look, and they both fumble for it while they kiss, almost violent pushing into each other’s mouths. Billy breaks the kiss to sit back, slicking his fingers and shifting on the bed.

Tom sighs with pleasure at the first touch of fingers to his entrance. He gulps in deep breaths, fighting to keep his body still when Billy pushes two fingers into him right away, slow but intense.

“Jesus, you’re not fucking around,” Tom grits out.

“Want you so bad,” Billy growls, dragging his teeth along the tendons standing out on Tom’s neck. Tom nods messily, giving a small, breathy laugh. “Can you feel that?” Billy asks, twisting and scissoring his fingers. All Tom can do is groan and nod again.

Billy pulls out only to return with three fingers, this time curling and searching. Tom squirms and presses down, tries to guide his body until Billy finds what he is looking for, and Tom arches up off the bed, mouth gaping in a silent scream and his cock twitching even now.

“Gonna fuck you so good,” Billy promises, gradually slipping his fingers out.

“Get on with it,” Tom challenges, watching him with dark eyes. 

Billy rocks back onto his heels, admiring Tom’s body while he strokes himself with his slicked hand. Tom finds the bottle and fills his own palm, sitting up with his legs on either side of Billy.

He bats Billy’s hand away, wrapping his own hand around Billy’s cock, coaxing and pulling, reveling in the small sounds he draws, the way his face changes when he lets Tom take a little more control. He twists his wrist and Billy gives a distracted grin, and when Tom circles his thumb around the already leaking tip Billy’s hips jump, his eyes flaring.

Billy plants one hand on Tom’s chest and pushes him back down into the pillows while he moves forward. Tom is half-hard again, panting as he feels Billy press up against him. 

He is as slow and deliberate as promised. He lifts Tom’s leg up onto his shoulder and kisses the inside of his knee as he pushes into him. Tom knots his fists in the fabric, struggling against the urge to push back against him. He watches Billy with hooded eyes.

“Fuck,” Billy whispers, lips still pressed to Tom’s skin. He’s all the way in, waiting for Tom to give him permission to move. Tom shifts his hips gently, growling when Billy’s cock hits home.

“Move,” he moans, and Billy does, pulling out with agonizing care. Tom squirms, reaching out to grab at Billy’s shoulder and his hip, hard enough to leave crescents in his pale skin. Billy pushes in again, clutching at Tom’s thigh, his other hand resting on his side. He’s restrained to the point of desperation, and Tom is sweating and writhing when Billy finally sets up a rhythm, plunging deep that their bodies come together before pulling out again, almost to the tip.

Tom looks up at Billy where he’s curled over him. He rocks faster, not pulling out as far anymore. He rolls his hips, and Tom moves with him until they’re urging each other into a more aggressive tempo. 

“So fucking good,” Tom pants encouragingly. “Harder.” He reaches up, bracing his hands against the wall so that he can press back against him, take him that much deeper.

Billy wraps his free hand around Tom’s cock, working him with precise strokes in time with his thrusts.

Billy comes with a cry, and Tom is right behind, his back bowing up off the bed. His nails dig into the flesh of Billy’s hip, and he knows when he wakes up tomorrow there will a bite-formed bruise on the inside of his knee.

Billy shudders, keeps thrusting, but now it’s slower and erratic, more focused on bringing Tom down. He pulls out of Tom carefully, lowering his leg looking up at Tom with a smile. He stretches out beside him on the bed, tangling their legs together.

Tom kisses his hairline and wraps an arm around his waist when Billy drapes himself along his side.

“Billy, what you said before?”

Billy stills and waits for him to continue.

“I think, maybe. I don’t know.” Tom goes quiet, and Billy turns to face him, eyes searching his face. “Me too, I mean.”

His face lights up in a grin, and Billy breathes out, giving a little laugh. “All right, baby boy,” he whispers.

“We should move in case Doc comes back,” Tom protests.

“We have time.” Billy stretches and pulls him closer, but Tom twists and pushes up onto his knees.

“If I’d known-“ Tom starts, but Billy sits up and silences him with a kiss.

“Don’t worry about it,” Billy reassures him. “I said we have time.”

Tom nods and stands slowly. “I’m gonna go shower.” He steps over Billy and heads towards the bedroom door, picking his way over bedrolls and bags. “Do not fall asleep on Doc’s bed.”

“I won’t,” Billy mumbles sleepily.

“He will kill you,” Tom says.

“You won’t let him.”

Tom watches him for a moment. “You’re probably right,” he sighs to himself before leaving Billy asleep in the bedroom.

**Author's Note:**

> I know they're "Henn" and "McMath" in the first fic in this series, but I can't keep calling them that. It doesn't make sense anymore. They're Tom and Billy.
> 
> Betas. I'm pretty sure just about everyone got to read the start of this at one point or another, but thanks to J for helping me with the ending! :)


End file.
